


give it to you

by hoosierbitch



Category: White Collar
Genre: BDSM, Breathplay, Collars, Dom/sub, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Posture Collar, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/pseuds/hoosierbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter likes Neal best when he's naked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give it to you

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for Porn Battle XI [here](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/472424.html?thread=29281896#t29281896)! The prompt word was collar. It has been cleaned up from its original posting. If you have no idea what a posture collar is, here's [the wiki entry](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Posture_collar)!

He liked Neal best like this. Naked.

Liked him stripped of his clothes and of the illusion that Peter didn’t own every part of him; the illusion that he didn’t want to be owned.

It was aesthetically...pleasing. Neal’s pale skin flushed from the tips of his ears down to his chest. A pretty blush matched by his hard cock and interrupted only by the leather posture collar. Black, because Peter was a traditionalist in some things. It kept Neal’s head up and forward. Kept him from looking back at Peter (trying to check his reactions), kept him from controlling the situation.

“Your birthday’s coming up,” Peter murmured, stroking Neal’s dripping cock idly. “I’ve been thinking about what to get you.” He traced a fingernail over the slit of Neal’s cock and chuckled when his hips jerked to the side. “Maybe a spreader bar. Help you stay still.” Neal moaned and his cock twitched in Peter’s hand. “You like that idea?” He moved to kneel behind Neal on the bed. Rubbed against his hole with two fingers already slick with Neal’s precum.

“Or,” he said as he breached Neal with both fingertips at the same time, “I could get you a new collar.”

He wrapped his free hand around Neal’s neck. He loved the way the collar felt against his palm. Loved that he could feel Neal swallow when he got nervous. He thought about grabbing a leash to add to the presentation, but Neal’s hole was so tight and inviting around his fingers – it would be rude to stop so soon.

“They make metal versions, you know. And they’ve got collars that would cover your mouth. Keep you quiet.” He tightened his hold on Neal’s throat with one hand and pushed the other forward, until his fingers were in Neal's body to the second knuckle.

“But that wouldn’t be much fun, would it? I like hearing you.” Neal whimpered, as if the sound had been summoned by Peter’s words, his body so eager to obey. Peter thrust slowly with his fingers and laughed when Neal started rolling his hips to meet his movements.

“And,” he whispered, breath brushing against Neal’s ear, “they’ve got collars with matching corsets.”

He moved Neal until he was on all fours, stripped, and quickly dripped some lube on his cock. He put his hands on Neal’s hips, on top of bruises just barely beginning to yellow, and pulled Neal back until his cock was seated deep in Neal’s body.

The collar had been Neal’s idea. And Peter had been hesitant about it, at first. Hadn’t really seen the appeal. Until Neal had gotten on his knees and handed Peter the leash, and after that, well – Peter was an open-minded guy. And it woke something inside of him, _spoke_ to something inside of him that reveled in owning and reshaping Neal’s body. Opening his hole, fucking his mouth, keeping Neal's head positioned exactly the way he wanted it – even now, even when the rest of Neal’s body was shaking with the force of Peter’s thrusts.

He’d buy the matching corset. Tighten it until Neal could barely breathe then fuck him till he cried.

He reached around to tease Neal’s cock and rode out Neal’s uneven thrusts into his hand. When he got close he sat back on his heels and pulled Neal into his lap. He cried out at the new angle, but eventually relaxed.

Peter thrust again and knew he was close. He bit the part of Neal’s shoulder that wasn’t covered by the collar, that was sweaty and flushed and dusted with freckles. And slammed Neal all the way down on his cock as he came.

Eventually he let go of Neal’s hips and eased him onto the mattress. Kissed him, slowly, and then grinned as Neal thrust his cock against Peter’s thigh. “You take care of that - I’ll be back soon.” He smiled at Neal’s woeful expression. He looked like Satchmo. “I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

He kissed Neal again and then left him on the bed. Went to the computer to order the corset.

And it wasn’t because he was feeling mean, wasn’t even that he didn’t want to watch because he _did_ \- it was because when Neal was sprawled out on the bed, naked and sweaty and smiling, all that Peter could see was the anklet. A flashing green light on an ugly grey instrument. And it would be there when Neal took Peter's collar off, and it would be there in the morning when Peter made them both pancakes, it would be there all day and then at night when Peter took Neal to bed and stripped him of the rest of his clothes and masks and lies. It would be there when Peter couldn’t be and it would be there even when Neal didn’t want it to be.

So he’d buy the corset and maybe a new leash and he’d fuck Neal until he lost his words and he’d pretend, as well as he could for as long as he had to, that his was the only collar that Neal wore.

*

Feedback is loved and adored!


End file.
